


The Scarlet Spectre

by CavernWraith



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Marvel, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Spider-Man - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, F/M, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavernWraith/pseuds/CavernWraith
Summary: Peter Parker, a tenor at the Metropolitan Opera House, is secretly taught by a mysterious voice that seems to follow his every move.A Marvelized retelling of the classic story "The Phantom of the Opera" that will contain elements of both the original book and the famous musical.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Wanda Maximoff/Peter Parker
Comments: 41
Kudos: 14





	1. Angel of Music

Peter Parker took another bow as the audience roared in jubilation at his performance.

The curtain came down and the other performers congregated around Peter to congratulate his debut.

“That was incredible,” said a dancer.

“Peter, I never knew you had it in you. Nice job,” praised a supporting soprano.

Peter smiled and looked over at Eugene Thompson, the lead baritone, who gave a grudging nod of respect.

“You did good tonight, I’ll admit. Just don’t get in my way. Remember, I’m the big star, not you,” he sneered before storming off backstage with the other performers.

Peter sighed and headed to his dressing room, wondering if Eugene would ever stop seeing everyone as a threat to his career.

* * *

“ _Bravo, bravo, bravissimo…_ ” 

Peter looked around. He felt a chill run down his back.

“Hey, Peter,” a voice called from behind.

Peter turned to see Harry Osborn, his close friend at the opera house.

“Harry.” Peter grinned and hugged him.

“You sure knocked it out of the park back there, pardon the baseball expression. So, what was your trick?”

“You really want to know?” said Peter. Harry eagerly nodded. “All right.”

They walked as Peter explained, “When my father was on his deathbed, he told me I would be visited by an angel that was his envoy, his representative, the Angel of Music. I would dream of the angel every night since his passing. Now, since I first started here, I have been receiving singing lessons from her every week. Unbelievable, right?”

Harry looked concerned. “Peter, are you ok? This angel stuff sounds a bit wacky.”

“You don’t believe me,” said Peter.

“Peter, I think you’ve been reading too many fairy tales. It’s time to grow up.” 

* * *

They reached the door to Peter’s dressing room. Standing outside was a middle-aged man with a stern face.

“Harry Osborn, are you not a ballet dancer? Go find the team and start practicing.”

“Yes, father. I’ll see you, Peter.”

Harry walked away leaving Norman Osborn and Peter alone in the corridor.

Osborn smiled at Peter. “You performed well tonight. She will be pleased.” 

He produced a red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem and gave it to the younger man.

“Rest, Peter. I must go teach Harry and the ensemble. And there is a young woman who wishes to see you.”

“Yes Mr. Osborn,” Peter responded as Harry’s father left him standing there holding the flower.

Peter opened the door to his dressing room and entered, closing it behind. He placed the rose on a table before he stripped out of his garb and changed into a smooth white shirt and dark pants.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Peter called.

The door opened and a redheaded woman stepped into the dressing room. She wore a deep blue dress.

“Peter Parker,” she said in a teasing manner.

He turned, his brown eyes meeting her green ones. “The one and only. I’m sorry, but are we supposed to know each other?”

“Silly Sally does not like windows but she likes doors.” 

He stifled a chuckle as she continued, “Silly Sally likes pillows but not blankets. What does Silly Sally like?”

Peter spoke. “Things that have double consonants. Oh my, Mary Jane Watson, is it you?”

The redhead grinned broadly.

“The one and only. Did you miss me, tiger?”

The tenor laughed and ran to embrace his childhood friend. 

“MJ, it’s been so long.”

“I know, Peter.” 

Mary Jane noticed the rose on the table. “Oh, I see you have a secret admirer already. You sure there isn’t room for one more?”

The two shared a laugh at her teasing and she tousled his brown hair.

“How about we go for dinner and catch up?” she suggested. “I know a great French restaurant on 58th Street.”

“MJ, I’d love to, but I’m sorry. I have a lesson with the Angel of Music tonight. She is very strict.”

“Don’t worry, Pete. It will only be an hour. I’ll have you back here in no time at all. Let me get my wrap first. Wait here. I’ll walk with you.”

Mary Jane closed the door leaving Peter in the dressing room.

He smiled faintly. Maybe some fresh air and a familiar face would do him good. 

Peter went to put on his jacket when he suddenly felt the chill go down his spine again as a female voice from within the room thundered, “Insolent girl! How dare she bask in your glory! This ignorant fool is spoiling our moment!”

Peter recognized the voice. He hurriedly threw on the jacket and stood with his arms clasped in a praying motion. 

“My angel, please. I meant you no harm. Forgive me. I am at your service.”

The voice’s tone changed.

“Peter, my dear, you shall know me. Understand I dwell in the shadows. Come toward the mirror and look into it. You will find me.”

Peter stepped toward the mirror and saw a figure.

“Angel?” Peter asked. 

“Yes, Peter,” whispered the figure. The glass slowly opened toward him and there she was, a woman in a red dress and red cloak. She had dark hair and blue eyes. Covering the right side of her face was a silver mask. She extended her hand to Peter.

“I am your Angel of Music.”

Entranced by her charm, Peter took her hand. He stepped through the mirror with his angel as it closed back.

“Peter? I'm back. You there?”

Mary Jane reentered the dressing room and gasped. Peter was gone.


	2. The Scarlet Spectre

Peter looked around his environment as the woman led the way holding a lantern. They were descending into the catacombs of the opera house.

His companion held his hand with a mix of firmness and gentleness. The pair reached the bottom of the steps. Beyond that was a lake and a small boat with one oar.

The woman in red released his hand and gestured for him to board. Peter carefully stepped into the boat and sat down while she affixed the lantern to the front, took the oar, and started rowing.

They moved through the lake, soon reaching the shore on the other side. A house was in front of them.

Peter’s eyes widened in astonishment as the woman disembarked from the boat and offered him her hand.

Peter took it and stepped off the boat.

“You are no angel. Who are you?”

“Do not fret, Peter. You are in safe hands. I am Wanda, and this is my home.”

They entered the house and into the living room which contained an organ, along with a lit fireplace and a sofa. Stacks of papers, a bottle of ink and a quill rested at a nearby desk.

Peter suddenly remembered the whispers and rumors he heard when he started training at the opera house.

“You are the Scarlet Spectre.”

“Indeed I am.”

Wanda removed her cloak and placed it on the sofa. Peter was surprised at how innocent she looked. Like gossip, the stories appeared to have been exaggerated.

“May I ask you to take off your mask?” asked Peter. “I am curious to see your face.”

Wanda responded, “No, Peter. That is the one thing you cannot do while you are here.”

She gestured to the living room space behind her. “I have brought you here to sing for my music. You show promise, and my tuition has been rewarding. But you must rest.”

Wanda went over to the desk and opened a drawer, taking out a key. She led Peter down the hall to a door and unlocked it, revealing a small bedroom.

“Please sleep,” said Wanda. “We will have our lesson in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night,” said Peter.

Wanda stepped out of the room and closed the door. She gave a faint smile to herself and pressed her hands to her heart.

Peter stood shaken by the newfound knowledge that his spirit guardian was a living, breathing woman. He removed his jacket and pulled back the covers, getting into bed. His last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were what was hidden beneath Wanda’s mask.

* * *

Wanda sat down at the organ as Peter stood nearby. 

“I want to start by playing you a short composition from my latest opera ‘The Tragedy of Faust.’ It is still in progress, but I anticipate another triumphant performance by the opera house.”

She started moving her fingers to the sheet music, skillfully pressing each corresponding key without fail. 

As Peter watched, he decided he could not wait any longer. His curiosity had to be satisfied.

Wanda was about to turn to the next page when Peter suddenly pulled off her mask and instantly recoiled from the ghastly sight.

“Ragh!” Wanda screamed at the intrusion. She covered her face with her right hand and stood up from the organ.

“Damn you! You little prying Pandora!”

Wanda grabbed Peter’s raised arm trying to shield himself from gazing upon her frightening visage and forced it down at the same time she lowered her hand revealing her unsavory features: Her nose was sunken in. Several gashes ran along the right side of her face, and her right eye was not blue like her left one as he initially thought, but a deep gray. Finishing off the monstrous display was a swollen lip.

“You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?”

“Your face,” stammered Peter. “It’s so- so-”

“So hideous? So freakish?” Wanda let out a mocking gasp before it turned into sinister, maniacal laughter. “Now you have seen me as I truly am. You can never be free. You must remain here with me forever.”

“Wanda, you know that is not possible. Wanda, please, you’re hurting me.”

Wanda stopped her cackling and looked at Peter’s pleading face and then at his arm. She swiftly let go and turned away from him ashamed.

Peter checked his arm as Wanda fell to the floor and began to sob.

“Oh, Peter. I did not want you to find out this way. I was hoping we could slowly get to know each other over time and only then when I had secured your love would I unveil this twisted face, this loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell yet secretly yearns for heaven.”

Peter looked down at the crying woman. She looked pitiful and vulnerable.

He knelt down next to her and stretched out his hand still holding her mask.

Wanda slowly looked at him with the expression of a frightened child before she gently took it from him and placed it back on her face.

Wanda then stood up, her confidence restored. She helped Peter to his feet before walking over to the desk and producing a ring from a drawer. 

“Take this and wear it to show your faithfulness to me.”

Peter held out his right hand, and Wanda placed the ring on his middle finger. 

“Come, we must return. Those two fools running my theater will be looking for you.”


	3. Disaster Night

“‘Dear Mr. Stark, just a brief reminder: My salary has not been paid.’ Can you believe the utter nerve?”

Tony Stark looked down at the signature at the end of the letter.

“Mine says ‘O.G.’ Steve, what does yours say?”

Steve Rogers finished reading his letter. “Same here, Tony. But what could it mean?”

“Opera ghost,” the pair exclaimed.

“I seem to recall Charles Xavier telling us of this shadowy figure just before handing us the reins to the opera house,” noted Tony.

“He was probably getting old and senile and so started to believe in outdated rumors. This is clearly some childish prank,” muttered Steve.

The door to the managers’ office opened and Mary Jane entered. Both men turned to acknowledge her.

“Miss Watson,” they said in greeting.

Mary Jane frowned and asked, “Where is Peter Parker?”

“How should we know?” Tony replied.

“Don’t play games with me. I assume you sent me this note.”

Mary Jane produced a letter from her purse and passed it to them.

“‘Do not fear for Mr. Parker’s wellbeing. He is under the care of the Angel of Music. Make no attempt to see him again,’” read Steve. 

“Angel of Music?” scoffed Tony. “What’s next, a Demon of Sabbath?”

“If you didn’t write it,” said Mary Jane, “who did?”

“Where is she? Where is your precious patron?” bellowed Eugene Thompson, entering the office. The blond baritone stormed up to Mary Jane and brandished a letter. “Explain this.”

The redhead took it and read, “‘Your days at the Metropolitan Opera are numbered. Peter Parker will be performing in your stead for the show at the end of this month. Do not even think about taking his place or there will be consequences.’”

Eugene scoffed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?” 

Mary Jane slapped Eugene across the face.

“How dare you accuse me of promiscuous behavior,” she shouted.

“Now everyone, let’s try to calm down here,” said Steve.

A knock sounded as the occupants turned to see Norman Osborn standing in the doorway. 

“I am sorry for interrupting, but I want to inform you Mr. Parker has returned,” he said entering the office. 

“In that case our meeting is adjourned. Where is he now?” asked Tony.

“He is feeling unwell at the moment. I told him to take a brief leave of absence and rest at home,” replied Osborn.

“May I see him?” asked Mary Jane.

“I am sorry, Miss Watson, but he will not see anyone.”

“Will he sing or not?” demanded Eugene.

“This may answer your question, Mr. Thompson,” said Osborn.

He produced a letter from his coat pocket and passed it to Tony who started to read: 

_ Gentlemen,  _

_ I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature detailing how my theater is to be run. As of today, you have not followed any of my instructions. Consider this your final warning.  _

_ I see great potential in young Peter Parker and I believe his career should progress. Therefore in the upcoming production of Il Giullare Sciocco, you will cast him in the leading role of Prince Ferdinand. Under no circumstances will Eugene Thompson perform. _

_ I will be watching the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur.  _

_ I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant. _

_ O.G. _

Tony looked up from the letter and scanned everyone else’s faces. Steve looked concerned. Mary Jane was confused. Osborn looked troubled. And Eugene was pissed.

“This… this is some conniving plot against me!” The baritone pointed to Mary Jane. “You! You are conspiring with Parker to sabotage my career, putting on this pretty face charade!”

“Indeed! Can you believe it?” the woman sarcastically responded.

“Enough,” Tony said. “Mr. Parker will not be partaking in the performance at all, period. Eugene Thompson will play the lead role.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” grinned Eugene.

Osborn frowned and quietly muttered, “Who scorns her word, beware to those. The angel sees, the angel knows.”

He left the office as Mary Jane’s ears perked up at his words.

* * *

The audience started to enter the auditorium as Mary Jane approached the managers.

“It’s really packed tonight,” said the redhead. 

“Indeed it is,” commented Tony.

“In any case I shall be sitting in Box Five.”

“Do you really think that’s wise?” asked Steve.

Mary Jane glanced around her surroundings. “Well, from the look of things, there would appear to be no seats available other than Box Five.”

The managers shrugged.

“Do enjoy the show, Miss Watson,” said Tony.

“The same to you, Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers.”

Mary Jane headed toward Box Five and took a seat as the conductor entered the orchestra pit to a round of applause.

The show started smoothly. 

Eugene was in the middle of singing an aria when a mighty voice that seemed to echo throughout the theater shouted, “Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty? Now you shall pay the price for defying me!”

The crystal chandelier hanging above the audience began to shake. Then without warning it broke loose and plummeted down toward them.

People screamed and started to get out of their seats as the chandelier crashed; shattered glass flew everywhere. The theater erupted into panic as audience members ran for the exit.

In the commotion, Peter and Mary Jane found each other.

“Follow me,” said Peter. “I know somewhere we can be safe.”

* * *

They headed to the rooftop of the opera house. Peter looked around his environment with a look of dread while Mary Jane watched in concern.

“Peter, what is going on?” Mary Jane asked.

Peter looked at her with a fearful expression as he fiddled with the ring on his right middle finger. 

“MJ, I am sorry I have been ignoring you these past weeks. You must understand that I am in danger and so are you. The Angel of Music was nothing but a lie. Behind that fantasy is a woman, the Scarlet Spectre.”

“The Scarlet Spectre is nothing more than a ghost story, an urban myth.” 

“No, MJ, she is very real. I have been to her home beneath the opera house. I have seen her face. It looked so frightening that I can’t even call it a face.”

Mary Jane stared into Peter’s eyes as she made the connection.

“The rose in your dressing room, with the black ribbon. That was from her.”

“Yes.” 

Mary Jane wrapped her arms around Peter in a comforting gesture as he did the same for her. 

“Listen to me, Peter. That woman will not come between us. If she wants to take you, she will have to get through me first.”

She leaned in close and kissed him. Peter kissed her back before their lips parted. 

Mary Jane smiled warmly. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, Mary Jane,” said Peter with happiness in his voice.

They stood locked in an embrace before separating.

“Now let’s go back inside and check on everyone,” said Peter.

He and Mary Jane left the rooftop. Shortly afterward, Wanda emerged from behind a statue. Her eyes stung with tears. She collapsed to the ground and wept.

“I gave you my music, made your song take wing, and this is how you repay me. She was bound to love you when she heard you sing.”

Wanda continued to cry. Her tears of sorrow soon turned to tears of rage.

“You will answer for your betrayal, Peter Parker! You will know why I am called the Scarlet Spectre! This is not over!”


	4. New Developments

The lobby of the Metropolitan Opera House was packed with costumed and masked guests from knights and ghouls to cats and roosters. The atmosphere was festive, everyone merrymaking and dancing.

Peter and Mary Jane made their way to the buffet table. 

“You need to try this bruschetta, Peter,” said Mary Jane.

He opened his mouth and she fed him a slice.

“Mmm, it’s good.”

Peter’s eyes then darted to one side.

“Peter? What is it?”

“Sorry, I thought I saw… never mind, it’s probably nothing.”

“Hey, hey, eyes on me,” whispered Mary Jane comfortingly. “We’re in this together.”

Peter’s face lightened up at her smile.

Meanwhile Tony and Steve were chatting, champagne glasses in hand. 

“The new chandelier looks magnificent,” commented Steve. 

Tony nodded in agreement. “I’m just glad there’s no more threatening notes or creepy ghosts. Shame about Eugene. Hope he’s doing better in Connecticut.” 

“All right now,” said Steve, “let’s welcome in the new year. No more dreary talk. It’s been six months since the  _ Il Giullare Sciocco _ incident and there’s been no disturbing fan mail or hate mail whatsoever.” 

Tony nodded and the two men clinked glasses.

“To the new year,” they chorused.

Suddenly a menacing figure appeared at the top of the staircase. It wore a costume modeled after the Red Death from Edgar Allan Poe’s famous short story and carried a satchel. 

The guests parted from the figure in fear. The masked individual slowly and ominously descended the stairs.

“What? No one missed me?” said Wanda with heavy sarcasm. “Did you really think I was gone? I’ve been busy composing my newest opera.”

Wanda removed a manuscript from her satchel. “Here I bring my finished work: ‘The Tragedy of Faust!’”

She threw it to Tony before pointing a threatening finger at Peter, noting the ring still on his finger. “Your chains are still mine; you will sing for me!”

With that, a cloud of smoke appeared around her. When it lifted, she was gone.

The lobby started to fill with murmurs.

Mary Jane noticed Norman Osborn silently exiting toward a hallway and followed him.

“Mr. Osborn,” called Mary Jane.

The man continued walking away from her.

“Miss Watson, I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s not true. You know the Scarlet Spectre, don’t you? ‘Who scorns her word, beware to those. The angel sees, the angel knows.’”

Osborn stopped, hearing his utterances quoted back at him, and turned to face the redhead. 

“Very well.”

They found a private corner and Osborn spoke, “Her name is Wanda. I met her almost ten years ago, when she was part of a traveling circus’s freak show. ‘Satan’s Spawn’ they called her. I took pity on the poor girl and smuggled her out.” 

“Does Harry know?” asked Mary Jane. 

“No. Wanda and I agreed that her existence would be our secret. She had a natural gift for making music. I helped her set up a home underneath the opera house, hiding from the world. Shortly after Peter Parker began training here, she took an interest in him.”

Osborn sighed. “I have said too much, Miss Watson. Please leave me be.”

“Peter is in danger. You remember the chandelier crash. You know what she’s capable of. Please help us.”

Osborn’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I am sorry, but I cannot. She has outgrown me.”

* * *

Tony and Steve looked over the letter they just received.

“So our shadowy friend wants Mr. Parker to perform in the starring role. I suppose we’ll have to comply with her ‘request’ or else we’ll have to order another chandelier,” muttered Tony.

Mary Jane entered the office. “Gentlemen, I believe we have a way to entrap the Scarlet Spectre.”

“Scarlet Spectre? That’s what she’s called?” said Steve. “That explains the Red Death costume.”

“Anyways,” said Mary Jane, “we should put on this opera she has composed to draw her out.”

Tony and Steve developed curious and interested expressions and motioned her to continue.

“If Peter performs, she will certainly be there. I believe Box Five is her preferred haunt.”

“We get police to surround the auditorium inside and out,” said Tony.

“No escape for her,” added Steve.

“Then the curtain falls,” said Mary Jane triumphantly.

* * *

Peter laid a bouquet of flowers at the gravestone. 

He stepped backward to rejoin Mary Jane.

“I wonder what Dad would say if he knew what was happening.”

Mary Jane held Peter’s hand.

“Don’t worry. By the end of the month, we will be in Europe for a much-deserved holiday and this Scarlet Spectre business will be behind us.” 

“I’m not sure if this plan will work,” said Peter.

“It will,” insisted Mary Jane.

Peter was about to respond when the sound of a violin being played filled the cold air.

“Someone’s here,” said Peter. 

His gaze turned to find the source.

A cloaked figure holding the instrument stepped out from behind a mausoleum. It was Wanda.

Mary Jane gasped. “So you are the Scarlet Spectre.”

“In the flesh,” said Wanda. 

Mary Jane and Peter held onto each other as the dark-haired woman drew nearer.

“Try all the dirty tricks you want. You won’t have him,” said Mary Jane.

Wanda laughed. “Oh, you don’t even know what I have planned.”

Peter tried to placate her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“But I have to,” said Wanda. She stepped closer toward the couple. “Without me, you would not find success. You would still be a nameless tenor.”

“Stay away,” yelled Mary Jane. She grabbed Peter’s hand tightly as they ran from Wanda.

Wanda watched them flee before hissing, “See you on opening night.” 

* * *

Mary Jane looked out at the audience. A small handful of policemen were planted throughout the theater.

The woman smiled to herself.  _ No escape for you. _

The conductor entered the orchestra pit to applause. He picked up his baton, readied the orchestra, and began conducting the overture to “The Tragedy of Faust.” 

The curtain lifted and the show began.

Mary Jane watched Peter sing with other performers. 

_ Just act normal, and focus on the performance. Let us handle her. _

She turned away from the show to scan the crowd and rafters for any sign of Wanda.

The lights suddenly cut to black and the orchestra stopped. 

Audience members started to mutter in confusion.

The lights then came back on. Everyone was still there, except Peter.


	5. Point of No Return

The audience gasped while Mary Jane’s eyes widened in shock and realization. The Scarlet Spectre knew their plan and had been one step ahead!

She got out of her seat and rushed outside the auditorium. 

_Peter’s dressing room_ , she thought. That had been where he disappeared last time. There had to be a clue somewhere in there.

“Miss Watson.” 

She turned to see Norman Osborn standing with an afraid yet determined look on his face.

“I can take you to them.”

“Can I trust you?”

“Yes.”

* * *

“Wanda, are you crazy?” yelled Peter as the boat pulled up toward shore.

Wanda put down the oar and turned to him.

“I wouldn’t say ‘crazy.’ I prefer ‘desperate.’”

She pulled him out of the boat and forced him into her house, closing the door.

“You wonder why I am damned to live in this cold, dismal place? It’s because of my wicked face.”

Wanda reached for her mask and yanked it off. This time, Peter looked at her disfigurement with sympathy.

“Do you know what it’s like, Peter? Being spat at and punched and kicked by strangers just because you look like this? I never asked to be born like this!”

* * *

Osborn and Mary Jane headed down the winding steps. As they reached the bottom, Osborn took a quick glance around.

“Damn, they took the boat. This is as far as I dare go. You will have to swim across yourself. Her home is on the other side of the lake.”

“Mr. Osborn, thank you.”

Osborn turned to head up the stairs while Mary Jane looked down at her dress and sighed in resignation. 

She jumped into the water and started to swim.

* * *

“My own mother was so ashamed of my face that she forced me to wear a mask and would not look at me until I had put it on. Eventually she sold me to a traveling circus just so she never had to see her wretched child’s face ever again.” 

Wanda finished her recount and looked at her mask resting on the desk. Peter placed a hand on the scarred part of her face, and her eyes softened at his touch.

“It is not your face that frightens me, but your soul. That is the true distortion.”

Wanda was about to respond when a pounding on the door interrupted them.

“It seems we have a guest,” said Wanda.

She headed toward the door and opened it to see a soaking wet Mary Jane, who let out a shriek at seeing Wanda’s face.

“Like what you see?” said Wanda. “You certainly are persistent.”

Mary Jane quickly recomposed herself and put on a brave face. “Don’t even think about harming him.” 

Wanda’s face developed an amused expression. “Why would I harm him? I desire him.”

She stepped aside and gestured inward. “Please enter.”

Mary Jane rushed past Wanda toward Peter and they embraced each other. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” she whispered as they parted.

Peter’s look of relief turned to horror.

“Behind you!” 

Mary Jane whipped around as Wanda grabbed her and pulled her away from Peter. 

“Wanda, stop!” yelled Peter.

Wanda produced a concealed knife and held it at Mary Jane’s throat while restraining her.

“Take off the ring, and get down on one knee,” Wanda ordered Peter. 

Peter glanced at the ring on his finger as he realized Wanda’s intentions.

“Do it or she dies.”

Peter and Mary Jane looked at each other terrified. He removed the ring and knelt down before Wanda.

“Hold the ring out in front of you.”

He did so.

“Now repeat after me: Wanda, will you marry me?”

Peter stared up into her face and Mary Jane’s. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“Wanda…”

The scarred woman leaned forward in anticipation of his next words.

“... this is not you.”

Wanda’s expression turned shocked and she unconsciously loosened her grip on Mary Jane. The redhead used the opportunity to elbow Wanda in the stomach, causing her to cry out in pain and drop the knife.

Mary Jane snatched the knife off the ground and pointed it at Wanda as Peter got to his feet, clutching the ring in his fist.

“MJ, that’s enough. Let me talk to her.”

Mary Jane backed away while Peter helped Wanda toward the sofa as she groaned and the two sat down.

Peter placed his free hand over one of Wanda's.

“Wanda, look at me. You don't need to do this. You have the potential to be better. I don’t know what sort of horrors you have been through, but I want you to understand this: You are not alone.”

As Wanda took in Peter’s words, he leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips. She gasped and started to tremble before slowly returning the kiss.

Mary Jane watched this display in horror and wonder.

Peter and Wanda separated. There were tears in her eyes. He wiped them away as she continued to cry, burying her head into his chest.

Peter gently stroked Wanda’s back as she finally lifted her head and looked at him.

“Go,” said Wanda tearfully. “Forget me, forget all of this. Take the boat and be with each other.”

Mary Jane started to head toward the door, stopping to wait for Peter. He stood up from the sofa before realizing he still had the ring. He unclenched his fist and held out the ring before opening Wanda’s hand and placing it in her palm and gently closing it. 

The two stared into each other’s eyes. 

“Peter, I love you,” whispered Wanda.

Peter forced himself to turn away from Wanda and return to Mary Jane. 

They opened the door, headed outside, and boarded the boat. Peter took the oar and started to row.

Wanda watched them shrink into the distance before she closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I had lots of fun writing this.


	6. Happy Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand many readers were glum regarding the story's downer ending. So to brighten the mood, I have put together a more hopeful, positive alternate ending.

“Wanda, look at me. You have the potential to be better. I don’t know what sort of horrors you have been through, but I want you to understand this: You are not alone.”

As Wanda took in Peter’s words, he leaned forward and gently kissed her on the lips. She gasped and started to tremble before slowly returning the kiss.

Mary Jane watched this display in horror and wonder.

Peter and Wanda separated. There were tears in her eyes. He wiped them away as she continued to cry, burying her head into his chest.

Peter gently stroked Wanda’s back as she lifted her head and looked at him.

“Go,” said Wanda tearfully. “Forget me, forget all of this. Take the boat and be with each other.”

Mary Jane looked at Wanda with pity. No one should not have to be alone or unloved.

Mary Jane walked over to the sofa and held Wanda’s hand. Peter smiled and took her other hand.

She looked at them confused.

“Come with us, Wanda,” said Peter.

“What?” responded Wanda. “I don’t think- I really shouldn’t- I-”

“We can help you,” said Mary Jane. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

She and Peter wrapped their arms around Wanda in a comforting gesture. Wanda slowly reciprocated.

“Don’t worry,” said Mary Jane, “we can share him.”

Wanda developed a surprised expression. “What about my face?” 

“With the right surgeon, I think it might be possible to reduce the scarring,” said Peter. 

“And don’t worry, you will be given anesthesia to go to sleep during the procedure,” said Mary Jane.

Wanda smiled. 

* * *

Peter fixed his tie and headed to the front of the house.

“You ready? MJ went ahead to secure the table.”

“Coming,” said Wanda.

She descended the staircase and Peter smiled at her appearance. 

The surgery had managed to fix some of the gashes, and minor corrections were done for her sunken nose and swollen lip. Her face now looked more normal.

“What?” asked Wanda.

“Nothing. I’m just happy for you,” said Peter.

He gave Wanda a quick peck on the lips and opened the door for her.

“Shall we?” Peter extended his hand.

Wanda giggled before she took it and they walked out together onto the busy street.

Wanda leaned into Peter and sighed in contentment. Finally after years of pain she had a chance at happiness.


End file.
